Epic Knights of Legend and Steel

Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

“N ay, Garran!” Douglass leapt up, putting herself in between Garran and Tiberius as her brother burst through her shattered chamber door. “Garran, what on earth is the matter with you? Why did you do that?”

Garran’s black eyes were glittering dangerously at Tiberius. He had come to check on his sister for the night but when he heard soft strains of Tiberius’ voice inside the room, he’d panicked. He had busted down a fairly substantial door and now stood in the ruins, his broadsword in his hand and rage on his features. He never took his eyes off Tiberius, not even for a second, and the tension in the room soared to a splitting capacity as Garran and Tiberius, the best of friends, now faced off against one another.

“What in the hell are you doing here, alone with my sister?” Garran growled.

Tiberius remained calm. “Truly, Garran?” he asked wryly, indicating the sword. “Are you truly here to kill me? Then I do not know why I should answer your question if you think you already know the answer.”

Garran was struggling not to shove his blade into Tiberius’ gut. “I know you,” he fired back. “I know how you operate with women. I cannot believe you would make my sister your next victim!”

Douglass was aghast. “Victim?” she repeated. “Garran de Moray, you are wicked and terrible! Whatever do you mean by that?”

Garran was enraged, a rare state for the usually calm knight. Tiberius had seen the man in the heat of battle, calm and collected, so this state of fury was unusual for him, indeed.

“ What is he doing here?” Garran asked his sister angrily. “Why did you let him in? You know you should not have done that. I warned you against it.”

Douglass put her hands on her hips, incensed and furious at her brother’s behavior. “I was alone in my chamber and I have been for hours,” she said. “Tiberius came to talk. We were simply talking. Do you really think it was something more than that, something… unseemly ? Do you really think I would allow such a thing?”

Garran’s fury was now tinged with uncertainty. “I know you would not,” he said, eyeing Tiberius. “But I have known Tiberius for many years. You have no idea what he is capable of, Douglass.”

As Douglass hissed angrily, Tiberius spoke up. “You are correct, Garran,” he said calmly. “I am capable of quite a bit, but not with your sister. I thought you trusted me more than that.”

Garran gave him an expression of disbelief. “I trust you with my life,” he said. “I trust you on the battlefield. I trust you not to let any harm befall me or my family if you can help it. But I do not trust you with my sister’s honor.”

Douglass shrieked angrily. “Tiberius has been a perfect gentleman, the same of which cannot be said about you,” she said, pointing an imperious finger at the door. “Get out . Get out and go find me a chamber with a door on it. You can sleep in this one for all I care.”

Garran refused to be made the villain in this situation. He lowered his sword, shaking his head at his sister as if she were the most ridiculous creature in the world.

“I do not care what he has told you,” he said. “Tiberius de Shera is only interested in another conquest. He’s very good at that sort of thing. He’ll lavish attention and gifts on a woman for a day or two and then when she believes herself in love with him, he claims her maidenhood and then runs off to the next woman. He’s done it a dozen times before and I refuse to allow you to become his next conquest.”

Furious, Douglass reached out and slapped her brother across the face. “In order for him to conquer me, I would have to be willing,” she snarled. “I am not willing to be a man’s conquest but I am willing to be a man’s wife. That is what we were talking about, Garran. You have a dirty, nasty mind to think differently.”

Garran’s jaw popped open in shock. He could hardly believe his ears. “Wife?” he gasped, looking at Tiberius. “You… you proposed marriage to my sister?”

This wasn’t exactly the way Tiberius had wanted to inform everyone that he had offered for Douglass’ hand but Garran could not un-hear what he had just heard. Therefore, Tiberius had no choice but to confess everything and pray Garran didn’t try to use his broadsword on him.

“I did,” he said, softening in the hopes that his sincerity would soften Garran. “Garran, I know that you and I have had many adventures together. I know there have been… women. I have done things that I am not entirely proud of. But all men must grow up, even me. Your sister was special to me from nearly the moment I met her and I swear that I would make her a fine husband. I would be faithful to her until I die.”

Garran stared at him in disbelief. “Nay, Ty,” he muttered, begging. “Not my sister. Choose another.”

“Why?”

Garran was starting to appear ill, ill and bewildered. Although he loved Tiberius as a brother, he didn’t want to trust the man with his precious sister. He knew too much about him, too many unsavory things. The entire situation, as he was coming to realize it, was overwhelming him. Tiberius wanted Douglass and Douglass wanted Tiberius. It was a nightmare any way he looked at it.

“Because,” he said simply, shaking his head, shocked and perplexed. “You are not a man who can be tied to one woman. Haven’t you told me that before?”

Tiberius nodded patiently. “I did,” he said. “Many times. But that was before I met Douglass. I… I cannot tell you what changes a man’s mind, only that minds do change. Men change. Will you not at least allow me that opportunity?”

Garran looked at his sister, seeing her expression of hope and disappointment and resentment. There was quite a mixture in her features, which confused Garran all the more.

“He is not a man I would pick for you,” he said earnestly. “You must have a man who… who….”

Douglass cut him off. “How many times have you told me how much you love Tiberius?” she demanded, although there was no force behind it. “How many times have you told me that he is a loyal, perfect knight? And now he is not good enough for me?”

Garran was losing the fight. He could sense it. He grunted unhappily. “He treats women as if they are disposable commodities,” he said. “I have seen it time and time again. I do not want him to treat you like rubbish, too.”

“And I won’t,” Tiberius said firmly. “Garran, I am not entirely sure how much clearer I can be about this. Your sister… she has changed something in me. You must believe me. I would have her and no other. Either you believe me or you don’t. Have I ever lied to you?”

Garran shook his head without hesitation. “Never.”

“Then you will believe what I am telling you. It is the truth.”

Garran stared at him, pain in his eyes as he felt his defeat. He was surrendering, unable to fight against Tiberius and his word of honor. No man in England had a more powerful bond. If Tiberius said that Douglass was the woman he wanted to marry and that he would honor and respect the woman as his wife, then Garran had no choice but to believe him. If he didn’t, then his relationship with Tiberius would be damaged forever. He found himself faced with a horrible, life-changing choice… to believe or not to believe.

To have faith in a man’s honor or spit upon it. God, he was so torn….

“Drop the sword, Garran.”

Maximus’ voice suddenly filled the chamber. Garran immediately dropped his sword, feeling the sharp tip of Maximus’ weapon in the small of his back. Douglass gasped, frightened, as Tiberius put up his hands to ward off Maximus’ threat.

“He was not going to use it, Max,” Tiberius said steadily. “Everything is well.”

Maximus didn’t drop the sword. He kept it against Garran’s back as he looked at the smashed door.

“I can see that,” he said drolly. “This door looks well, indeed.”

Tiberius went to his brother and put his hand on his sword, removing it from Garran’s back. “Ease down, brother,” he said, a smile on his lips. “All is well, truly.”

Garran wandered into this sister’s chamber and sat heavily on the small bed, despondent, as Maximus looked between Tiberius and Douglass. They both had smiles on their faces so he surmised that perhaps all was not as it seemed. He was growing confused.

“Why is the door shattered?” he wanted to know, “and why was Garran armed? Why do I come up to Lady Douglass’ chamber and find things in shambles?”

Douglass blurted before Tiberius could answer. “The lock on my door was stuck,” she said, lifting her shoulders as she spoke as if that would convince Maximus she was telling the truth. “Garran had to break it down.”

Maximus didn’t believe her for a moment but he didn’t say so. He merely turned to Tiberius. “What really happened?”

Tiberius chuckled softly. “Do you not take a lady’s word for it?”

Maximus emitted something that sounded between a grunt and a groan. It was meant to express his impatience and disbelief.

“Then you will tell me later,” he said. “Meanwhile, I believe Gallus and de Moray are finished speaking so you had better come with me. It is time to leave the lady to her sleep.”

Tiberius looked at Douglass, who was smiling timidly at him. He didn’t want to leave her but he knew he had to go. Reaching out, he took her hand gently as Garran, seeing the gesture, buried his face in his hands.

“I will speak to your father immediately,” he assured her softly. “Come the morning, we shall see if you, in fact, go to London. You may just as easily come back with me to Isenhall.”

Douglass squeezed his big fingers. “I can only hope so.”

Tiberius squeezed her hand in return and let it go. He thought kissing it might be too much for Garran to take. He looked at the man, sitting despondently upon the bed.

“Well?” he said. “Are you coming, Garran?”

Garran simply shook his head and Tiberius didn’t push. He wanted very much to speak with his friend, to clear things between them, but he thought that perhaps now was not the time. Moreover, he had more important things to do, like discussing his offer of marriage with Bose. In the long run, Garran would not make that decision– Bose would– so it was more important that he speak with Bose.

“Come along,” Maximus encouraged, cutting into his thoughts. “We must leave.”

Tiberius didn’t say another word. He followed Maximus from the chamber, kicking aside the broken pieces of the old, oak door, and casting Douglass a wink just before he left completely. She smiled in return, giving him a brief wave. It was a wave of hope and of longing. Already, he could see that she missed him. He missed her, too.

Thoughts of Douglass were heavy on his mind as he headed away from her room, down the darkened corridor. But those thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly smacked into the back of Maximus, who had come to a sudden halt. When Tiberius looked to see why Maximus had stopped, he realized that Bose was standing directly in front of him.

But de Moray wasn’t looking at Maximus or Tiberius. He was looking at the shattered door that belonged to his daughter’s chamber. Then, the black eyes went directly to Tiberius.

“ Why is my daughter’s door smashed?” he wanted to know.

Tiberius could see that the man was holding his composure together by a mere thread. Thoughts of a ravaged daughter were clearly rolling through his head and, by the way he was looking at Tiberius, it was quite possible that Bose thought he was to blame. To that end, Tiberius did the only thing he could do. He told the truth.

“Garran did it!”

*

Having left de Moray several minutes earlier, Gallus was back in the minstrel’s gallery overlooking the common room of the tavern. He had a clear view of the catwalk, the stairs, and the area across the building that had the sleeping quarters on the second floor. He saw, clearly, when de Moray intercepted Maximus and Tiberius as they were coming out of Lady Douglass’ chamber and he noted there was a brief exchange before Maximus and Tiberius continued onward. Bose continued to his daughter’s destroyed chamber door and Gallus could see the man kicking pieces of broken wood aside.

Gallus couldn’t begin to guess how Lady Douglass’ door had been destroyed but he was positive it had something to do with Tiberius. In fact, both brothers were heading in his direction, across the catwalk and through the smoky haze. Gallus poured himself a measure of the terrible ale as Maximus and Tiberius resumed their seats at the table. The first thing Tiberius did was drain an entire cup of that awful alcohol.

“Well?” Gallus asked. “What happened? Did you talk to her?”

Tiberius nodded and poured himself another full cup. He slurped it down as Gallus looked at Maximus with concern. In fact, both brothers were rather concerned at Tiberius’ manner but Tiberius finished the second cup, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and took a deep breath.

“She is agreeable,” he said, thrill evident in his voice. “She feels for me as I feel for her. She is agreeable to a marriage contract.”

Gallus smiled broadly. “Congratulations,” he said. “But why is her door smashed?”

Tiberius’ smile faded. “Garran did that,” he said. “He heard us talking through the door and, fearing the worst, smashed it down.”

“So that is why the door was broken,” Maximus muttered into his cup. “I thought you did that to get to her.”

Tiberius shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “She is a warm and wonderful woman. She is different from the empty-headed chits I have chased from one end of England to the other. She is intelligent and kind. I am wholly unworthy of her but I intend to do my best to make her an excellent husband.”

Maximus glanced at Gallus, who simply lifted his eyebrows in understanding. Both brothers still had their doubt that their free-loving youngest brother could indeed settle down with one woman, but Tiberius seemed convinced that he could and since the lady was agreeable, there wasn’t much they could say about it. The truth was that neither one of them had ever seen Tiberius so excited about anything, and especially a woman. It was touching.

“And so you shall,” Gallus finally said. “What is your next move?”

Tiberius pondered his response over his third cup of disgusting ale. He was so wrapped up in thoughts of Douglass that he couldn’t even stop to think about the fact that he was drinking swill.

“I want to marry her immediately,” he said, overlooking any sense of propriety. “I will speak to her father tonight and then marry her.”

It was a simple and rather selfish plan. Gallus lifted his eyebrows as if not entirely believing what he was hearing.

“De Moray will not allow you to marry her tonight, Ty,” he said, trying to force his brother to see some reason when, in fact, men in love were seldom reasonable. “You must ask her father for permission to court the woman. Once he gives his consent, you may start planning the wedding, but this will not be a quick process. Did you really think it would be?”

Tiberius frowned. Drinking three straight cups of the nasty ale and its high alcohol content already had his head buzzing. “Maximus married Courtly within two days of knowing her,” he said. “You helped him marry her as quickly as he could. Why am I any different?”

Maximus sighed heavily and looked at Gallus for an answer, but Gallus merely scratched his head. “It was different and you know it,” he said. “We were dealing with a father who was being unreasonable and mad at times. De Moray is not unreasonable and he is not mad, and he will most certainly be more formidable than Courtly’s father was. Do you truly wish to anger the man?”

Tiberius backed off somewhat. “Of course not.”

“Then you and I will go to him tonight and ask permission to enter into negotiations for the woman,” Gallus said, explaining the situation as plainly as he could. “This is a different situation altogether, Ty. We must observe proprieties or you will have a very angry Bose de Moray on your hands and that would not be a healthy thing for any of us.”

Tiberius didn’t say anything, knowing his brother was right. He hung his head, looking to the empty cup in his hand, before inevitably turning his attention in the direction of Lady Douglass’ chamber. He could see, across the mezzanine level they were on, that Bose was assisting his daughter from the room and moving her to a chamber with a door on it that had not been kicked in by an over-zealous brother.

Gallus and Maximus noticed where Tiberius’ attention was. They, too, could see the woman with the mane of golden-red hair as she moved from one room to another. Gallus sat back in his chair, watching Tiberius, wondering when the man was going to demand they go running over to de Moray to plead for the woman’s hand. It didn’t take long.

“Mayhap we should go now,” Tiberius said. “He is settling Douglass in another chamber. It will be the perfect time to speak with him.”

Gallus frowned. “How did you determine that?”

Tiberius shrugged. “Because I….”

He was interrupted when one of Gallus’ soldiers suddenly appeared on the catwalk, capturing Gallus’ and Maximus’ attention. But Maximus frowned when he saw the man’s face. Illuminated by the dim light of the tavern, they could see the man quite clearly as he drew near. A sense of apprehension immediately filled the air.

“That is Chambers,” Maximus said, his tone edgy. “We left him behind at Isenhall.”

Gallus knew that. Already, he was on his feet as the man approached. “What has happened?” he demanded of the soldier. “Why are you here?”

The soldier bearing the de Shera colors was exhausted. He was dirty, sweaty, and had mud all over the lower half of his legs, as if he had ridden very hard and very fast through anything and everything in his path. He came to a weary halt, wiping at his eyes.

“I saw some of our men in the street below, my lord,” he said, addressing Gallus. “They told me where you were.”

Gallus couldn’t help but notice the soldier hadn’t answered his question. “And so I am,” he said, eyeing the man with great concern. “Is my wife well?”

The soldier nodded. “She is very well, my lord,” he said, looking to Maximus also. “Lady Courtly is also well. Be at ease, my lords, the women are fine.”

Gallus was vastly relieved but he was also increasingly perplexed. “Then why are you here?”

The soldier looked directly at Gallus, apparently having difficulty answering. He seemed to be groping for words. “Sir Scott has sent me, my lord,” he said, strained. “I have a message for you and you alone. Sir Scott has asked me to deliver it to you in private.”

Gallus’ brow furrowed. He was weary and unhappy that he was away from his pregnant wife, so cryptic messages were not pleasing him at the moment. “What on earth about?” he demanded.

The soldier shook his head faintly. “Please, my lord,” he begged quietly. “It will only take a moment.”

Gallus rolled his eyes, looking to Maximus and Tiberius, who simply waved him on. They didn’t care about the contents of a private message because they knew that Gallus would tell them both eventually. They delved back into the food on the table, or what was left of it, as Gallus pulled the soldier with him along the smoke-hazed catwalk leading to the staircase on the other side. When they were about halfway across the walk, Gallus came to a halt and turned to the man.

“No more foolery,” he said, his voice low. “You have come a very long way to deliver an urgent message to me. What did Scott want you to tell me?”

The soldier cleared his throat softly. He had been with the House of de Shera for many years, as had his father. He was a legacy soldier, the second generation fighting for the Lords of Thunder, and he was a senior soldier in the ranks. That meant he had the trust of the de Shera brothers and it was something he did not take lightly. Scott had known it, too, which is why he had sent the man. He knew that Gallus trusted him and would believe him. He was about to put that trust to the test.

“Two days after you left Isenhall, a man and a boy appeared and demanded to speak to Sir Maximus,” the soldier said quietly. “Since Sir Maximus was gone, the man spoke to Sir Scott. My lord, Sir Scott wishes for me to tell you this: the girl that Sir Maximus loved in his youth at Kenilworth Castle, the one that your father sent away, did not die of a fever as he was told. She died in childbirth with Sir Maximus’ son. Now, the girl’s father has come to Isenhall with Sir Maximus’ son and seeks all birthrights for the boy. Sir Scott asked me to tell you this information in private so that you could relay it to your brother. He says that Sir Maximus should return to Isenhall with all due haste.”

Gallus listened to the message with mounting astonishment. By the time the soldier was finished delivering the message, Gallus was staring at him with genuine shock. He opened his mouth to say something but found that he couldn’t. He had no idea what to say. He finally put a hand over his mouth to cover up his gaping lips.

“I cannot believe it,” he finally hissed. “Is it possible that it is true?”

The soldier nodded. “I saw the boy myself, my lord,” he said. “He is the exact image of Maximus. You will see for yourself and know that the lad is a de Shera.”

“You are certain of this?”

“I am, my lord.”

Gallus was overwhelmed with the news but he knew it was nothing compared to what Maximus would feel. In fact, his gaze moved to his middle brother, sitting over on the minstrel’s balcony, tearing apart a big piece of bread. Aye, he knew that Maximus would be rocked to the bone by the news.

Already, he ached for his brother. The man had found such happiness with Courtly after years of being a rather cynical, unhappy man. And now this. Sickened, Gallus returned his focus to the soldier.

“The man who brought the boy,” he muttered, “said that he was the boy’s grandsire?”

The soldier nodded. “Aye, my lord.”

Gallus exhaled slowly, thoughtfully. “Maximus would no doubt recognize the man.”

Again, the soldier nodded. “I would presume so, my lord.”

Gallus pondered that particular reunion, knowing it would not be a good one. “Were they still at Isenhall when you left?”

“Indeed, my lord,” the soldier replied. “Sir Scott told them to remain while he sent for Sir Maximus.”

Gallus’ gaze lingered on the man for a moment. “And Lady Courtly?” he asked. He was almost afraid to know. “Does she know who this boy is?”

The soldier nodded. “Sir Scott told her,” he said softly. “He had no choice.”

The reply hit him like a blow to the gut. God’s Bones, Gallus thought. He closed his eyes a moment, tightly, to ward off the utter shock and sorrow Courtly must have experienced to be confronted with Maximus’ bastard. And a demanding bastard, evidently. With that in mind, Gallus knew he could not delay in telling Maximus. He swiftly moved past the soldier, heading back to where his brothers were sitting.

“Come with me,” he ordered. “I may need you to answer any further questions Max may have about all of this.”

Obliging, the soldier followed. They made their way back across the catwalk to the minstrel’s balcony where Maximus had finished his food and now had his big feet upon the table, yawning. Tiberius was still focused on Lady Douglass so his attention was over where the sleeping rooms were. When Gallus returned, Tiberius tore his gaze away long enough to speak to him.

“I have not seen de Moray emerge from Douglass’ chamber,” he said. “He is still in there, now with Garran present. Should we go over there now?”

Gallus shook his head. “Now is not the best time, Ty,” he said, eyeing Maximus. “It would seem that Maximus has received some news he must deal with. Max, a message has come to you regarding an unexpected situation back at Isenhall.”

Maximus looked at his brother, not particularly concerned. His wife was well and that was all he really cared about. He yawned again, folding his big arms behind his head and leaning back.

“What is it?” he asked.

Gallus sat down and fixed on his brother. After a moment, he shook his head. “I am sorry if this is blunt,” he said. “I am not entirely sure how to say this, so bear with me. This has to do with Rose.”

Maximus didn’t seem to understand what his brother meant. Clearly, a romance from sixteen years ago wasn’t at the forefront of his thoughts. “Rose?” he repeated. “Rose who?”

Gallus could see that the news was going to hit Maximus from out of nowhere, for the man had no idea what he meant. “ Rose, ” Gallus said again, softly. “Rose from Kenilworth.”

That drew a reaction. Maximus’ brow furrowed. “Rose?” he said yet again, now obviously upset by the statement. “What in the…? What is the meaning of this?”

Gallus reached out and put a hand on his brother’s arm. “Quietly, Max,” he admonished softly. “Be quiet and listen. Will you do this?”

Maximus’ feet came off the table, slamming onto the floor with enough force to rattle the balcony. His dark green eyes were blazing at his brother and his jaw worked angrily, off–balance and off-guard by the subject matter. He was confused and agitated, a dangerous combination where Maximus was concerned.

“Listen to what ?” he nearly shouted.

Gallus remained calm. “I have no idea why you are so angry,” he said. “Calm yourself or this will not get any easier if you do not.”

Maximus was struggling with his composure but he took a deep breath, laboring to relax. “Speak, then,” he said through clenched teeth. “I am listening.”

“Quietly?”

Maximus simply rolled his head around in a marginally affirmative action. It looked more like an act of desperation. “I will try,” he mumbled. “Speak, Gallus. What is this all about?”

Gallus could see that the situation was edgy already. Rose was an emotional subject for Maximus, even after all of these years. Tiberius, concerned, moved closer to Maximus because, if the man veered out of control for some reason, by his sheer size alone, Tiberius was the only one who could control him. He hovered over Maximus as Gallus spoke.

“Listen to me,” Gallus said, grasping Maximus’ hand. “I must ask you a question. Do you recall that after Father sent Rose and her father away from Kenilworth, you were told that the woman had later died of a fever?”

Maximus’ jaw was tensed and he nodded shortly. “From one of de Montfort’s men,” he said. “Rose and her father had been sent to one of de Montfort’s outposts and the soldier told me she had perished from a fever. He knew this because he had just come from the outpost.”

“But he told you nothing more?”

“Nothing,” Maximus replied. “I never knew how or why, or even where she was buried. Gallus, why are you asking me these questions? What has happened?”

The flash of rage that Maximus had experienced had quickly faded and he was more in control of himself. Gallus was so very sorry to tell him what was transpiring, now, sixteen years after Rose and Maximus had shared their brief affair. He squeezed his brother’s hand in a silent show of support, of strength, of solidarity in that nothing could break the bond between them. Not even news such as this.

“Evidently, two days after we left Isenhall, Rose’s father showed up at the castle and demanded to see you,” he said carefully. “He was not alone, Max. He brought his grandson with him. He told Scott that Rose did not die of a fever. She died in childbirth with your son. Rose’s father has brought the boy to Isenhall to claim his birthright as a de Shera. As the son of Maximus de Shera.”

Maximus stared at him for a moment before his eyes narrowed and his features twisted. The shock, the denial, in his eyes was paramount as Maximus sat back in his chair, heavily, and stared at his brother.

“A son?” he repeated, his voice oddly hoarse. “I… I cannot believe it. I will not believe it.”

Gallus turned to the soldier, who had been watching the entire scene with some trepidation. An enraged Maximus de Shera was a happenstance that all men feared. But when he saw Gallus’ expression, encouraging him to speak, he didn’t hesitate.

“I saw the boy, my lord,” he told Maximus. “He is the exact image of you. He is quite large and well-formed.”

“It could be a ruse! A lie!”

“I do not think so, my lord. He looks exactly like you.”

Maximus blinked at the soldier, as if the words from the man’s mouth had somehow slapped him in the face, startling him. After several long moments, he emitted a long, hissing sigh and hung his head, wiping his hands over his face in a weary, disbelieving gesture.

“A son,” he muttered. “God’s Bones, is it true? Could it actually be true?”

Gallus watched him carefully, glancing at Tiberius to see that the man looked deeply concerned and deeply shocked, just like the rest of them. Gallus put a hand on Maximus’ slumped shoulders.

“You bedded the woman, did you not?” he whispered. “It is possible, isn’t it?”

Maximus nodded slowly. “I loved her,” he breathed. “I wanted to marry her. She loved me in return. Aye, I bedded her, so this is entirely possible. I should be shouting my denial to the heavens but I find… I find that I cannot. Dear God, it wasn’t the fever that killed her… it was me. I killed her.”

Gallus shook his head. “You did not kill her,” he said firmly before Maximus went on a tangent of self-pity. “You conceived a son with the woman but that does not mean you killed her. You cannot blame yourself.”

Maximus was still hanging his head, overcome with all he had been told. “A son,” he murmured again. “Does this son have a name?”

Gallus didn’t know. He looked at the soldier, silently prompting the man to speak. “Cassius, my lord,” the soldier said. “He gave his name as Cassius de Shera.”

Maximus put his hands over his face. “Oh… God,” he hissed. “She knew… Rose knew that all de Shera males had Roman names. We discussed it a few times, jesting about what we would name our son. She gave him a Roman name as a final show of respect for me. Dear God, I can hardly believe any of this.”

Gallus let Maximus wallow in sorrow and shock for a few moments. In truth, he wasn’t sure he could say anything to ease the man’s agony. Maximus would have to come to grips with what had happened and the sudden turn his future had taken. But there was something else Maximus needed to know and, after a several moments of allowing the man to grieve, he spoke quietly.

“There is something else, Max,” Gallus confided. “Courtly knows about the boy. Scott had to tell her, so you should make all haste to return to Isenhall. There is much waiting for you there to sort through.”

Maximus’ head shot up, the dark green eyes fixed on Gallus with horror. “God help me,” he rasped. “He told her? Scott told my wife who the boy was?”

Gallus nodded. “I am not certain of the circumstances,” he said, “but you know that Scott would not have told her unless he had no choice. Regardless of the circumstances, the fact remains that she knows and you must return home immediately.”

Maximus was already nodding, his thoughts centered on his wife and how she must have taken the news. His heart was shattering for the humiliation and shock she must have suffered. He abruptly stood, knocking over his chair.

“I must go now,” he said. “I will have my horse saddled immediately. I must go home now.”

Gallus stood up alongside him and motioned the soldier forward. “Have your horse prepared,” he said. “Take Chambers with you. Mayhap he can answer any more questions you might have.”

Maximus merely nodded. He didn’t know if he had any more questions at the moment because his mind was a chaotic mist of shock, anguish, and not surprisingly, some happiness. He had a son! God, was it really true? He intended to find out for himself.

Gallus and Tiberius watched Maximus storm out of the tavern with the soldier on his heels. Mostly, he staggered, so very stunned by everything. When Maximus burst through the tavern entry, out into the street beyond as he headed towards the livery, Gallus turned to Tiberius.

“I suspect that one of us must return with him,” he said quietly. “I should go on to Kenilworth and confer with de Montfort so mayhap you should go with Maximus.”

Tiberius frowned, trying not to appear selfish. “I cannot help Max with this and neither can you,” he said. “He is a grown man and will have to face this himself. We cannot and should not make any decisions for him.”

Gallus sighed heavily. “You are more than likely correct,” he admitted. “I was thinking that mayhap he needed our support. But I do not suppose there is anything we can do.”

“I do not think so,” Tiberius agreed. “Moreover, I have my own issues to deal with. I must speak to de Moray about marrying his daughter and I most definitely require your help. Will you go with me to do this? I fear… I fear that the man may not take me seriously.”

Gallus looked at his youngest brother, thinking that there was too much trauma and turmoil going on in the House of de Shera. Maximus and an unexpected son, and Tiberius who decided he wanted to become a husband. He wondered how things had gotten so out of control. He could handle warfare and politics quite easily. It was human emotion he sometimes had trouble with.

“Very well,” he said, resigned. “Has he come out of her chamber yet?”

Tiberius shook his head. “Nay,” he replied, somewhat anxiously. “Mayhap we should go to her chamber and ask de Moray for a few moments of private conversation. I realize this seems rushed but I fear that if I do not do it now, it will be too late by tomorrow.”

Gallus nodded wearily, distracted for a moment as he heard Maximus outside, bellowing over at the livery across the street. The man had a voice that could carry for a mile.

“Then let us get this over with,” he said, eyeing Tiberius a moment. “You are certain about this, aren’t you? You will not marry the woman and abandon her in a month?”

Tiberius’ expression was steady. “I am certain,” he said softly. “I will never leave her side as long as I live.”

Gallus didn’t respond other than to lift his eyebrows in acknowledgement. Then, he turned for the catwalk that led to the sleeping rooms on the other side of the building. It was time to procure Tiberius a wife.

And try not to make an enemy in the process.